


to have and to hold

by doughnutwhore



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wedding Planner, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doughnutwhore/pseuds/doughnutwhore
Summary: "how can i marry him when it's you that i see waiting for me at the altar when i close my eyes?"alternatively: in which Ava is engaged to JC and Beatrice is their wedding planner (or the wedding planner au that nobody asked for)
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva, Sister Lilith/Shotgun Mary (Warrior Nun)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 71





	1. a floral archway and a familiar song

**Author's Note:**

> four things:
> 
> 1\. i didn't do a lot of research for this fic (and i've never been officially married) so if you read anything related to wedding planning that doesn't sound right, please look the other way.  
> 2\. this is unbeta-ed as usual. all mistakes are mine.  
> 3\. i can't promise weekly updates but i'll try my best. weekly or every other week. y'all are free to yell at me if i lose steam.  
> 4\. happy valentines day, warrior nun fandom. i love y'all.
> 
> *work of fanfiction. no copyright infringement intended

The night carries on with a bang —several in fact, as fireworks go off in the cloudless evening sky. The guests applaud. Some sip their champagne as they stare out onto the horizon, but Beatrice’s eyes are glued to the middle of the terrace, where Lilith and Mary share another kiss as newlyweds.

Another wedding perfectly planned and executed, Beatrice thinks to herself, mentally shaking her own hand in congratulations.

She’s particularly proud of this event, not just because it had gone off without a hitch but also, and mostly, because this wedding is personal for her. Sure Lilith and Mary are going to pay her for her services, but only because they insisted. She would’ve done it all for free if they had let her. 

“Nonsense,” Lilith had said, “This is your career. I’m not going to let you do it for free just because you’re my maid of honor. We’re going to pay you just like the rest of your clients and you’re going to accept our payment.”

Beatrice fondly shakes her head at the memory. 

They were running down the hallways just yesterday. When did they go to college, have their own careers, and fall in love? Time had passed them by so quickly, and now she’s a professional wedding planner and Lilith’s a lawyer married to a beautiful and badass personal trainer. 

Beatrice looks at the happy couple again, looks at how their eyes never leave each other’s faces and how their hands are intertwined. She smiles. 

The fireworks show ends and the band starts playing their final set, a sort of pre-send off for the newlyweds. Beatrice decides to circle the deck, ascertain that there aren’t any (drunken) fires that needed putting out. She starts with the dance floor, a large area on the left side of the venue directly in front of the raised dais that serves as the stage. Beatrice watches the couples dancing as the singer croons out the chorus of “Your Hand is Safe in Mine”. Satisfied, she walks towards the side, to where the tables and chairs are situated. Everything seems to be in order, which means that she can allow herself another glass of champagne. She really isn’t supposed to be drinking at work, but the night is close to ending anyway. She can take a break, or so she tells herself. 

She’s about to flag a waiter for a flute when she notices a woman standing by herself, examining the floral archway by the marble railing. Beatrice watches as the woman’s eyebrows furrow, the disdain on her face evident as she thumbs through the petals in the arrangement. There’s something about the obvious distaste in her expression that draws Beatrice in. She is, afterall, the wedding planner, and she can’t help but feel like the contempt towards that singular archway is directed towards her. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She says when she reaches the other woman, who doesn’t turn to face Beatrice, only shrugs in response. 

“It is, but the placement is all wrong.” 

Beatrice raises a brow. “Oh?”

“Hmm. It’s blocking the view, you see. The coast is beautiful in itself. There was no need to put this _thing_ here. This should’ve been placed over there by the steps.”

Beatrice hums in agreement. That’s exactly what she’d told Mary, but the woman had insisted it be placed by the marble railing overlooking the view from the terrace.

“You’re absolutely right, but I think it was one of the brides who preferred it be placed here.”

“Well the wedding planner should have known better than to agree,” the woman rebutts, fingers still toying with the orchids and the hydrangeas, and Beatrice can’t help the amused smile on her face. 

“Perhaps you should tell her that.”

It’s then that the woman turns to face her, and the distaste on her face quickly transforms into regret and embarrassment when she sees who it is that she’s talking to. 

“Oh my god, you’re the wedding planner,” she gasps.

Beatrice smiles, “I am.”

“I am so sorry. I swear I wasn’t talking shit about you. I was mostly talking shit about whoever decided to ruin the view here.”

“That would be Mary.”

“Of course it is,” the woman rolls her eyes, and Beatrice can’t help but stare at her. The woman is strikingly beautiful. “Again, I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I actually agree with you. The view is spectacular and this archway is an obstruction. I should have known better than to agree with the bride.”

The woman winces, although there’s a small smile gracing her lips. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

Beatrice chuckles. “No.”

There’s a comfortable silence that envelops them after that, and Beatrice takes that time to really look at the other woman. Her warm brown eyes, her nose, her full pink lips. The tan skin that seemed to glow under the fairy lights. The wisps of hair gently swaying with the coastal breeze. 

She’s gorgeous in every sense of the word and Beatrice has to restrain herself from dropping all notions of professionalism to ask for her name. She’s working, although not per se. It’s her friend’s wedding, but she’s still their planner and that means something to her integrity. 

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for her, she doesn’t have to mull it over as the other woman looks past her, eyebrows shooting up in recognition at the man behind Beatrice. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she says, “It was nice meeting you though.” 

“It was nice meeting you too.”

And then she’s walking away, leaving Beatrice to constrain the unexpected disappointment simmering in her chest. 

It’s half an hour later when they finally send Lilith and Mary off to the airport, to Mexico where they will be spending their honeymoon. 

Beatrice sags in relief as the last of the guests disperse from the venue, only feeling a little disappointed that she hasn’t seen her again, the woman by the archway. Whoever she is, she must be a friend of Mary’s. It’s the only deduction Beatrice can make, since she literally knows everyone from Lilith’s side of the aisle. 

Whatever, Beatrice thinks. She’s not going to spend all night thinking about a woman she had a brief conversation with —even if they were disarmingly attractive. She focuses instead on the staff filing away the tables and chairs, carrying them to the back of the truck to be returned to where she’d rented them from. 

The whole clean-up is a process but it doesn’t take them too long to finish. Beatrice is immensely thankful for it as she finally feels the exhaustion from planning the entire event start to wear her down. 

She trudges towards her car, a moss colored Austin Mini that would delight a classic car enthusiast if only it didn’t look so beaten up. It’s her baby, though, and she’s extremely proud of herself for having bought it with her own money. 

Walking closer towards it, Beatrice notices that someone is already inside. There’s a familiar figure in the passenger seat, her face illuminated by the light from her phone screen. It’s Camila. The other woman doesn’t even bat an eye when Beatrice opens the driver’s door. 

“You should really get your lock fixed,” Camila says nonchalantly, like she didn’t just break in. Granted she’s Beatrice’s oldest friend apart from Lilith, but still.

“How the hell did you get in?”

Camila shrugs. “I just did.”

Beatrice narrows her eyes. “You didn’t do anything to my car, did you?”

“Do I look like a criminal?”

She doesn’t. Among the three of them, she actually looks the most innocent. 

“Point taken. Anyway, where were you the entire reception?”

That gets Camila’s full attention. 

Beatrice sticks the key into the ignition, fires up the engine and starts driving out onto the highway as Camila begins explaining where she was the entire night. Apparently, she was either helping the caterers or roaming the tables making sure that everyone was having a good time. 

She isn’t Beatrice’s assistant and although she was one of Lilith’s bridesmaids, taking care of the guests wasn’t on her to-do list. But that’s just Camila for everyone. Always the kindest person in any room. 

“I was also lurking and making sure you were having a good time.”

Beatrice steps on the brakes a little too forcefully at the stoplight. “What do you mean?”

There’s a little smirk on the other woman’s face that scares Beatrice. Unfortunately, Camila’s niceness includes wanting her friends to be in a happy relationship —meaning she likes setting people up. Not that she doesn’t believe that people can’t be happy single. She just wholeheartedly believes that life is better spent in love. 

“I mean I was watching you to make sure you weren’t all work and no play.”

“But I _was_ working.”

Camila fondly rolls her eyes. “We were at our best friend’s wedding. That wasn’t exactly work.”

“I know, but still. To-may-toe, to-mah-toe.”

“Oh come on Beatrice, tell me you at least met someone who you thought was attractive.”

The traffic light turns green. Beatrice eases her foot from the brake and starts accelerating, her eyes focused on the road ahead. Her mind, however, starts replaying the short conversation that she had with the unnamed woman from the reception. It’s a supercut of a floral archway, tan skin and easy smiles. 

“I did.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t get her name.”

“What do you mean you didn’t get her name?” It sounds like an accusation. 

“I mean I talked to someone but I wasn’t able to get their name.”

Camila merely sighs. There’s no winning this conversation, and she knows exactly why. There’s a deep-rooted reason for Beatrice’s actions (and entire outlook) and Camila can’t argue with its validity, even though she often wishes that Beatrice would break her credo. Camila recognizes the lost cause though and Beatrice is grateful that she promptly drops the topic.

Yes, it would have been nice, Beatrice thinks, if only she wasn't so scared.

“Would you like some tea?” Camila calls out from the kitchen, but the words are static in Beatrice’s ear.

Her eyes are already half closed when she plops down on her bed, ready to sleep for a week straight to get her energy back. She doesn’t even bother with her dress. 

Unfortunately for her, she has a meeting in three days for a couple needing a partial wedding planner, a week-of coordinator. At least it’s a break from going full service, she thinks to herself, which was what had happened with Lilith and Mary and the couple before them. 

She closes her eyes and pictures her organizer, imagines the boxes of her calendar and the notes that she’d written in black ink. She knows it like the back of her hand. 

Three week-of services, two days-of in the same week, and a full service at the end of the month.

The next couple of weeks are going to be grueling but she’s experienced a lot worse. If anyone can get through it, it’s her.

She whispers the reassurance to herself until she’s drifting off to sleep, carries it within the days that she can rest until it’s three days after and she’s meeting her new client. Soon enough the week is done and Beatrice finds herself sitting in a booth at a nice cafe uptown, waiting for a new bride-to-be. A different client.

It’s still a full service job, one that can hopefully start the following week, right after her last day-of service. This is how business goes for her. She meets her client a week or some days before, gets to know the bride to see if they’re the right fit. If she’s going to be working with them from start to finish then they have to be a match. After all, she’s not only going to be their wedding planner. At the end of the whole gig, she’s also going to be their friend. Or at least Beatrice hopes so. So yes, getting to know the bride beforehand is crucial. 

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and sighs, checking her wristwatch for the time. It’s almost three in the afternoon. Her client still has a few minutes. 

Beatrice doesn’t know who she is, doesn’t know who they got her email from. All she recalls is receiving a message a few days ago from a man named James Classen, asking if she had availability in her calendar. He had just proposed, he said, “it’s short notice so we completely understand if you’re fully booked.”

That had been the case when the month had begun. Her calendar had already been packed and color coded. Beatrice was supposed to be meeting with someone else a few days from now, the client who had booked her eons ago. The same client who had backed out just a day before she received James’ email. 

See Beatrice doesn’t usually believe in destiny or whatever, but she thinks that this James guy and his fiancee were fated to be her clients. The timing is all too perfect. It’s corny but that’s what her gut is telling her and despite normally being rational, it’s too strong of a gut feeling to simply shake off. 

She checks her wristwatch again, noting that her client is almost late. Beatrice hates tardiness. 

She’s about to send a follow-up to the number that James had given her when a hand gently taps her on the shoulder. She looks up. Her breath catches in her throat. 

-

Ava loves JC. 

She does. 

He’s bright and he’s caring and he’s generous. He listens to her. He supports her. He respects her. He knows how to make her laugh. 

He’s perfect, really. He’s the kind of guy that any girl would be lucky to have —and yet Ava doesn’t feel that way at all. Not while she’s watching him slip the ring on her finger. Not when he’s pulling her in and holding her against his chest. 

Everything feels tight and stifling all of a sudden. The ring on her hand is heavy and JC’s arms around her shoulders feel more smothering than safe. 

It’s not the first time that she’s felt like this, like she doesn’t belong with him, but there are things that you can work out, right? There are feelings that you can manage to live without, and there are people that you can choose to stay with because you love them, despite not really loving them in the way that you think that you should. So Ava swallows it all in, smiles despite the weight in her chest and the voice in the back of her mind telling her that she’s making a mistake. 

At least he’s happy, she thinks.

Their friends cheer around them, and then Chanel and Zori are stepping forward to admire the ring on her finger and Randall’s clapping JC on the back. 

She should’ve known that he would propose, should have seen the nervous way that he kept pushing his hair back on the way to the restaurant or the way that he kept checking his suit pocket. She should have seen the signs, but then again it wouldn't have changed anything.

Reminding herself to continue smiling, Ava looks up at Chanel and Zori. The question comes out before she has the chance to think it over.

“Will you guys be my bridesmaids?”

“Oh my god, of course!” Chanel says, no doubt already imagining the gown that she would wear. Zori nods her head, responding with the same enthusiasm. 

Ava loves them, she does, despite the knowledge that they’re not really hers. They’re JC’s. Almost everything is.

“So when’s the big day?” Randall asks, bringing Ava out of her daze.

“Maybe this year, if we can get around to planning it,” JC replies. He turns his head to look at Ava and the others follow suit. 

Ava clears her throat. “Yeah, this year sounds good. Maybe after your trip to Switzerland?”

That gets a nod from her fiancé. Ava tries not to flinch at the word. 

“Yeah, but my trip’s in four months and I’ll be staying in Geneva the entire September. Are you sure we can manage the time?” 

Chanel pipes in. “You can always hire a wedding planner. One that’s going to handle everything from start to finish. I think they call that a full-service planner?”

“Didn’t you go to a friend’s wedding just a few weeks ago?” Zori asks. “If you liked what she did at their wedding, maybe you can ask for her contact info.”

The rest of the conversation drowns out in Ava’s head as she recalls who the wedding planner was for Lilith and Mary’s wedding. A montage starts playing in her head, a clip of a terrace, a floral archway, and an easy conversation. Smiling to herself, Ava remembers the embarrassment that she felt when she talked smack about the wedding décor and the playful lilt in the other woman’s voice when she was teasing her for it. It was nice. 

“Yeah, Ava, we should ask Mary.”

“I will when we get home.” 

But Ava never does. Not even after the weekend when she’s back in the gym and teaching her classes. 

The logic is simple. If she doesn’t ask for the wedding planner’s number then maybe the whole thing will get postponed. Maybe it’ll get pushed to next year or the year after. Maybe JC will change his mind and decide he doesn’t want to marry her at all. 

It’s highly unlikely though, because JC loves her and he wants to marry her. Ava loves him too but there’s a ‘but’ after that sentence. 

It’s a Thursday afternoon when JC finally asks if she’s gotten around to asking Mary about the wedding planner. He’s in the shower so he doesn’t see the way that Ava looks down at her feet when she responds. “I keep forgetting to ask, and I’m too shy to disturb her when she’s still on her honeymoon.”

“Don’t worry about it. I texted her earlier and she sent me all of the details. I emailed the wedding planner too. Her name is Beatrice.”

Ava swallows thickly. “Oh.”

“Yep. She said the timing is perfect. A client backed out so she has an open slot. We set up an appointment for tomorrow. I can’t meet her though ‘cause I have a meeting. Can you go alone?”

There isn’t really a choice, Ava thinks. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Ava is going to be late, and she hates being late, but her car won’t start and the cafe she’s supposed to meet Beatrice in is too far away to walk to. Huffing, Ava decides that it’s better to call a cab than it is to pray for a miracle. 

Thankfully, the cab gets to the cafe in record time and allows Ava to stroll into the place with a few minutes to spare. She looks around until she finally sees her, the wedding planner. It’s been a few weeks but Ava knows that it’s her, remembers the young woman’s kind face. She smiles. 

Ava walks to the other woman, gently taps her shoulder when she arrives at the table. 

“Oh,” Beatrice looks a little surprised to see her, but then her face smooths out into a smile. “Hey.”

“Hi, I’m so sorry I’m almost late. I swear I’m not always like this. It’s just that my car wouldn’t start and I was at work.”

Beatrice shakes her head and smiles just as Ava slides into the chair across from her. “Please, don’t worry about it. You’re here now is what matters,” she says in a voice that immediately soothes Ava. All the tension in her shoulders bleed away, leaving her more comfortable than she has been all week. 

“You’re really good.”

“I’m sorry?”

Ava smiles. “I mean I know that a wedding planner’s job is to make sure that the road to the big day is as smooth as possible for the bride. You’re already making me feel less anxious and we haven’t even started yet.”

The compliment makes the other woman beam. “Thank you, Ava. It’s Ava, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” 

Ava likes the way that Beatrice says her name. 

“Congratulations on the engagement by the way.”

“Thanks,” Ava responds, trying to sound cheerful about it. She clears her throat before she continues. “Okay, so how do we go about this? Do we talk about the flowers first or the venue or?”

“Actually, I was going to talk a bit about myself and my business before letting you decide if you wanted my services or not.”

“Oh, you mean we haven’t hired you yet?”

Beatrice chuckles lightly. “No, not yet. James wanted us to meet first before you decide. That’s technically how business goes for me as well. Meet the client first, make sure we’re the right fit before letting them decide on whether or not they want me to be their planner.”

Ava nods. That makes sense. “Alright then. How about we order coffee and then we can start?”

“Sounds perfect.”

The afternoon goes by smoothly. As soon as they get their orders, Beatrice begins talking about her services and what she can bring to the table. Talks about how many weddings she’s helped with and how her goal is to make certain that the road to the wedding is as easy as possible. 

Ava learns that Beatrice started her business just a few years back, grown through word of mouth. The young woman is impressive and Ava doesn’t shy away from telling her so. 

“Thank you,” Beatrice says, cheeks dusting pink.

“You’re welcome.”

“So, what do you think?”

Ava grins, puts her mug down before setting her hands atop the table. “I think I like you, Beatrice. I think you’re exactly who we need to plan our wedding. What do you think?”

“I think I like you too, Ava,” she responds, mimicking the grin on Ava’s face.

Their conversation flows even more effortlessly after that, and Ava finds herself talking more about her life at Beatrice’s friendly inquisitions. It’s mostly still about the wedding, but branching out to other topics like when Ava and JC first met and how long they’d known one another before they realized they liked each other as more than friends. 

Ava talks and talks and talks, and she likes the way that Beatrice listens. Likes the way that she nods or hums or leans forward to show Ava that she has her full attention. It’s probably what makes her a good wedding planner, but Ava thinks that’s just how Beatrice is as a person. Attentive. Doesn’t break eye contact. It’s nice. 

In turn, Beatrice tells her stories about previous weddings that she’s helped with. Disasters and how she averted them. To someone else it would seem like Beatrice is still trying to sell herself, still trying to win Ava over, but Ava knows that Beatrice is just making conversation, and the other woman is probably a little guarded which is why she isn’t disclosing anything personal. Not that she has to. Ava might like her but this is the first time they’re meeting so the walls are completely understandable. 

Ava’s just too sharing in contrast is all. She likes the way that Beatrice doesn’t seem to mind. 

The watch on Beatrice’s wrist starts beeping after a few hours and Ava knows that they’ve talked too much. It’s six o’ clock and they hadn’t even noticed the time passing them by. 

“I’m sorry, did I keep you for too long? I’m really talkative.”

Beatrice smiles at her reassuringly. “No, not at all. I don’t have anything planned anyway.”

“Oh, me too, but JC’s probably waiting for me at the apartment so,”

“Of course,” Beatrice says. “So, Ava. When can we meet again? We can start talking about the wedding details by then.”

“I’m free on Monday, is that fine?”

“Sure. We can text each other about the particulars.”

Ava nods her head. They both stand from the table, walking side by side to exit the cafe. 

“I can give you a ride back to the gym if you want. Or I can drop you off at your apartment?”

“Hmm?”

Beatrice tilts her head. “You mentioned earlier that your car wouldn’t start and you were at work?”

“Oh, right, but no, you don’t have to,” Ava says. “I’ll ride a cab.”

“Are you sure?”

Ava throws her a smile. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Alright then. See you Monday,” Beatrice replies, smiling back before she’s walking towards her own car parked a few meters away from where Ava is standing. 

Ava watches as she drives off, feeling lighter than she’d been all week. There’s still that sinking feeling in her stomach about the whole thing, about marrying JC, but she had a good day and she’d rather focus on that. 

It’s half past seven when Ava gets home. JC is in the kitchen, dancing to some German song on the radio while he’s stirring a wooden spoon in a pot. The apartment smells like basil and tomato sauce. He smiles when she sees her approaching. 

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Hi, you. What’s for dinner?”

“Spaghetti. How did it go with Beatrice?”

Ava smiles, remembering her afternoon with the other woman. “It was perfect. She was great.”

“Wonderful. So, I guess we’re settled then? The wedding’s going to go without a hitch?”

Ava looks at him, looks at how excited he is at the thought of marrying her. 

It breaks her heart. 

She loves him. She does. But it’s not the kind of love that she used to feel when they were younger. It’s quieter now. Calmer. Like how there’s still a massive amount of sugar in a cola, but the fizz is all gone. It’s not the same. Not the way it’s supposed to taste. She thinks it’s been like that for quite some time now, but JC is all she’s ever known. JC is safety and security and home, and okay, when she thinks about him that way, reminds herself of their years together and his goodness and his love, she thinks it might be alright. Love doesn’t always have to be burning passion, does it? Love can be a quiet drizzle instead of a full-on storm. 

“Yeah, we’re all settled.”

“Great. Now, go get changed so we can eat.”

Dinner is perfect as always. JC has always been a great cook, or maybe Ava just thinks that way because she’s terrible in the kitchen. She’s never learned how to make a proper meal and she’s never asked JC to teach her. 

“I like taking care of you like this,” Ava remembers JC telling her all those years ago, when they were younger and she loved him more like a partner than a friend. 

The weight in her heart returns. God, he deserves so much more than this, she thinks, but she doesn’t say anything, simply continues scrubbing the stubborn lump of dried sauce on the pot. If she loves him the way she tells herself that she does then she’ll give him this. They’ve been together for four years now, what’s a lifetime more? 

When the kitchen is all clean, JC retreats to his office in the apartment and Ava is left alone with her thoughts. She settles on the living room couch, turns the television on to watch whatever is on HBO. She spaces out not long after, starts thinking about why she isn’t in love with JC anymore. 

She doesn’t remember a specific reason, doesn’t recall the when. It didn’t happen overnight. She didn’t simply wake up one day and decide that she doesn’t want to be with him anymore. All she knows is that things gradually changed. 

She turns her head to look at the open door to JC’s office. The light is on and Ava can hear the clacking of his keyboard. 

She sighs. Maybe she can fall in love with him again. That’s right. She has five months before the wedding. That’s more than enough time. 

Monday morning, Ava receives a text from Beatrice. She’s telling her about a nice desserts bar on the west side of town that’s not too far from the gym. Ava fires off a quick affirmative to meet her there in the afternoon. 

Toni, a friend and a fellow gym instructor, looks up at her from her seat on the changing room bleacher. 

“Got a hot date?”

“Yeah with my wedding planner,” Ava says. 

“Oh, cool. I’m invited to the wedding right?”

Ava chuckles. “You’re my third bridesmaid, you dumbass.”

“Great, just checking. And I can bring Shelby?”

Ava rolls her eyes. “Ask one more time and I’m rescinding your invitation.”

The other woman laughs and their conversation switches from the wedding to their classes. Ava is handling Mary’s self-defense class while she’s away and basically helping Shannon look after the whole gym. She’s been working for her and with her for almost a year now, right after she quit her old job at JC’s office building. 

She and Mary became fast friends. She thinks that it’s mostly because they share the same chaotic personality, but she knows that it’s because Mary has been nothing but kind to her. Before the gym, for the past four years, everyone that Ava knows JC knows too. They share the same group of friends, even used to have the same workmates. It was only when Ava quit her old job and started working at the gym that Ava had friends of her own. Or at least people she can consider as friends. People that are separate from her life with JC. 

Mary, Shannon, Toni, Shelby, Dot. Her own little group. 

JC has only met Mary, and then Lilith at the wedding, but apart from that, everything else is disconnected. Ava likes it better that way. 

At two in the afternoon, Ava collects her things from her locker and prepares to head out. She drops by Shannon’s office to say goodbye and then waves at her friends and coworkers. 

Her car doesn’t give her any trouble this time, the radio automatically turning on when she fires up the engine. 

She throws her things to the passenger seat before sliding in and turning the volume up. 

_I know that everything's changing but don't hide away from the light_ , the song goes. 

She doesn’t know the title or who the singer is, but she swears she’s heard it before.


	2. two bars and sneaking glances

“So the pretty lady you talked to at Lilith and Mary’s wedding reception is the same woman who just hired you to be her wedding planner?” Camila asks, the pity in her tone barely concealed. It’s the evening after Beatrice had met with Ava at the cafe, and she’s recounting the story to Camila in their living room.

“Yeah,” she says, unaffected. 

It was one conversation and yes, she thought Ava was pretty (still thinks so) but that didn’t mean that she’d developed a crush on her to the point of feeling sour about the turn of events. 

“See, this is why I don’t mix business with pleasure,” Beatrice says and Camila rolls her eyes. 

“You don’t mix business and pleasure because you’re scared of losing your career and having to run back to your family.” That earns Camila a pointed glare. “Sorry,” she squeaks. 

“It’s fine,” Beatrice sighs. “You’re right anyway, but still, I don’t play around at weddings because everyone present is a potential client. You know this.”

“Yeah, yeah. I just think you deserve a break is all.”

Beatrice doesn’t respond. Camila is right though. It’s been a while since she had someone. She’s alright with busying herself with work, but there are times when she thinks it would be nice to come home to someone. Make them tea or whatever. 

“There’s a preschool teacher assistant at work that might be bisexual,” Camila offers and Beatrice takes that as a sign to exit the conversation. 

“No thank you,” she says as she’s getting up from the couch and walking towards their shared office space.

It’s the third bedroom in their humble apartment. The smallest bedroom situated near the front door that they’ve converted into their little office. 

They’ve divided the area in half with Beatrice’s things on the left side of the room. She has a desk and a chair, and a cabinet behind it with different files and folders, and stacks of the latest wedding magazines. In front of her table, a little ways off, is a board in a wooden frame stand. It’s still littered with her notes and ideas from her last week-of service. She reminds herself to clean it up soon for Ava’s wedding.

Ava, Beatrice thinks, remembering the first time that she met the other woman. 

She smiles to herself when she recalls how that moment had unfolded. She likes Ava. Likes the way that they’d clicked at the reception even if their conversation had been brief. She still thinks that the other woman is attractive, thinks that she’s fun to talk to now that they’ve talked more. She specifically likes the way that Ava’s hands fly around when she talks. The way that she makes these gestures.

Ava is nice and cool and Beatrice is still happy that she’s going to get to know her, even if it’s in the business way now. 

She really isn’t sore about the turn of events. 

Walking towards her desk, Beatrice begins compiling a list of options for Ava. They didn’t talk much about the wedding particulars that afternoon, but Ava had mentioned that they wanted to get married within the year. Preferably in the fall. That’s five or so months away. They don’t have much time for the whole process. Thankfully, Beatrice is efficient. By the time midnight rolls in, she already has three different journals for Ava to look into for their meeting on Monday.

She sets it aside the entire weekend though, because she still has one day-of service left. It’s an easy job and doesn’t leave her too stressed come Sunday night. The morning after, she texts Ava about a desserts bar on the west side of town. It’s a trendy new place and it’s not too far from Ava’s workplace. 

Ava is already there when Beatrice arrives. The other woman waves at her. 

“Hey,” Ava says when Beatrice takes a seat. 

“Hi. Have you been here long?”

“No, I just wanted to try a few things before you arrived but I didn’t know what to get.”

“You don’t have a favorite dessert?”

Ava bites her lower lip. “I mean JC and I always get almond brownies when we go out, but they don’t have that on the menu.”

Beatrice offers, “Why don’t we try a few different options? You might find something you’d like.”

That makes Ava smile. She ends up getting three different cupcakes and a plate of cookies, and Beatrice chuckles at the look of pure delight on Ava’s when she tries one after another for the first time. After taking a few bites, Beatrice decides that it’s time to talk shop. 

“So, Ava. I hope this isn’t a rude question but I just wanted to ask why you and James decided to get married this October. I mean, couples usually plan their wedding for an entire year.”

“JC’s work schedule tends to be very unpredictable. We don’t know when he can take the time off next year, but he’s sure to be available in the middle of October. Why? Is it not possible to plan the wedding in five months? Because I can tell him to postpone.”

Beatrice doesn’t raise her eyebrows despite the urge. Ava’s last sentences sounded... desperate. Beatrice chalks it off to the other woman wanting her wedding to be perfect. It’s natural. Women want their big day to be perfect and it’s only normal for Ava to panic at the thought that things might not go as smoothly if they rush the planning process. 

This is where Beatrice comes in. She slides a hand to cover Ava’s, feels the hairs on the back of her neck tingle at the connection. She doesn’t think anything of it. Probably just the airconditioning, she thinks.

“Hey, no. I understand that you’re worried about the timeline, but we can definitely make it work. I’m here to help and we’re going to make your wedding day perfect.”

Ava looks down at her hand. She slides it away, fears that the other woman doesn’t like being touched by someone she barely knows. Ava looks up at her. Looks a little disappointed with her reassurance, but then she says,

“Okay. Sure. We can make five months work then.”

The sun is slowly setting outside the bar. Beatrice glances at the sky, takes a minute to admire the different hues before turning back to Ava. She’s not a hard client per se, but she doesn’t seem to know what she wants. The budget is all settled, JC’s family is going to shoulder the cost, but apart from that everything else is a big question mark. Ava doesn’t know if she has a theme or a must-have or a dream location that Beatrice can secure for her. She doesn’t even know who her guests are. 

It’s a bit unnerving because everyone else that Beatrice had worked with knew what they wanted for their wedding. In fact, all of the brides had their pinterest boards and stories from when they were still children. Ava has none of that. It’s like she came to Beatrice as a massive blank canvas and Beatrice has free rein to paint in the colors that she wants —which isn’t how she wants to work. She wants her clients to do things their way. She wants Ava to tell her what she wants so she can make it happen. Sure Beatrice has a list of suggestions, but she can’t exactly offer anything unless Ava opens a window. So far, Ava has only told her what JC wants. 

“I’m sorry. I feel like I’m wasting your time,” Ava frowns as she goes over the journals for the third time. 

“Not at all,” Beatrice reassures her. “It’s uncommon that a bride-to-be doesn’t know what she wants, yes, but I completely understand how overwhelming the process is. There’s so much to do and so many options to choose from. You think you want one thing but it turns out you want something else. Or maybe you don’t know what you want at all. That’s fine. That’s valid.”

Beatrice watches as the other woman’s face breaks out into a smile. Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she does, Beatrice notices. 

“Thank you.”

Beatrice only smiles back in response. 

They make slow progress after that. At the end of their meeting, Beatrice has a list of partials that she’d gotten from Ava. Partial number of guests. Partial themes that she might consider. Partial wedding party. 

It's not a lot to go on with but Beatrice can make it work. She can compile more ideas from these partials. Maybe she’ll surprise Ava at their next meeting, or maybe Ava will surprise herself and discover something that she likes. 

“So, when do we meet again?” Ava asks as they are walking out of the desserts bar. 

“Does Saturday sound good? You can go over the theme and the guest list with James this week and I can send you a list of good venue options via email. I’m also going to let you take this home,” Beatrice says, handing Ava a thick plastic envelope containing the portfolios of the photographers and videographers in her contacts. 

“Great,” but Ava doesn’t sound excited. In fact, the whole thing seems like a chore to her. Beatrice thinks it’s because of the stress, although she feels like it could be something else. She isn’t sure if she should ask but her job is to make Ava happy, make everything run smoothly for her. If there’s anything more that she can do, she really needs to know. 

“Is there anything else that I can do? I mean apart from the entire planning process. Anything to make this whole thing stress-free,” Beatrice offers. 

“Hmm?”

“If you read between the lines of my job description, you’ll find the word ‘confidante’ there too.” It’s not a very good joke but it makes Ava chuckle and Beatrice takes that as a win. 

“I’m good. Just a little overloaded I guess.”

Beatrice nods, takes her answer at face value. Still, at the other woman’s defeated look, she deigns to offer, “Do you want to go to a pub or something? We could have a few drinks, relax a bit.” 

Beatrice cringes at herself. She’s never once made a suggestion like that to any of her previous clients. 

Thankfully, Ava takes it in stride. “I’ll definitely take you up on that, but maybe some other time?”

“Sure.”

And then they’re parting ways, Beatrice looking back to see Ava walking towards a black car on the other side of the parking lot. 

The rest of the week is a lot better.

Beatrice receives an email on Wednesday from Ava and JC. They want a garden wedding and have over a hundred guests attending. Beatrice immediately comes up with possible venues for the ceremony, the reception, and the upcoming engagement shoot. 

She sends a reply with a list of options and prays that they’ll respond positively. 

On Thursday night, Beatrice decides that she deserves a break. She finalizes the list of locations that she and Ava will be touring the following week before heading out with Camila. 

It’s a warm June evening. Beatrice wears a thin white shirt and a pair of jean shorts. Camila sticks to a pair of black pants and a yellow top. 

The bar that they go to isn’t too crowded, but is still full of unbridled laughter from its present patrons. 

“First round’s on me,” Camila says, ambling towards the wooden countertop on one side of the bar while Beatrice looks for an empty booth. She finds one by the wall, a few feet away from the platform where a live band is performing.

Beatrice likes it here. The atmosphere is friendly and unpretentious, a perfect place to relax after a demanding week.

“A draft for the lady,” Camila says as she sets the tall glass on the table, her own mocktail in front of her. 

“Thanks. What are you drinking?”

“I’m not sure. I told Rachel to surprise me.”

Beatrice smiles, shakes her head at the other woman. 

They talk about everything and nothing after that, anything that isn’t work-related. From Lilith and Mary’s arrival a few days from now to a friend’s upcoming birthday party. They talk about cat memes and how one of these days Camila might adopt a kitten. About Beatrice’s aunt visiting in a few weeks and her car’s locks getting fixed. The topics range from serious to comedy to serious, and Beatrice feels the tension on her shoulders ebb away. She needed this, a break from looking at magazines and researching the perfect venues for a bride who doesn’t seem to know what she wants. 

Beatrice loves her job, she does, but she needs a break from it too. No matter how much she enjoys her work, it can get draining. As all things you invest in do. 

It’s when she’s walking back to the table after getting another round of drinks that she sees her. Brown hair, tan skin, a smile on her face. She can’t help but stare as she’s sitting down. 

“Who are you looking at?” Camila asks. 

“Ava. She’s here.”

Camila turns around to find the woman, moving her head in the most obvious way because she’s as impatient as the kids she teaches. She doesn’t even ask Beatrice where to look, simply looks back at Beatrice with a knowing grin.

“So that’s Ava. I can see why you were drawn to her at the reception.”

“What do you mean?”

Camila smirks. “Oh come on, Beatrice. As if I don’t know your type by now.”

“I don’t - I’m not sure I understand,” Beatrice splutters.

“She’s pretty, and she looks like she’s having fun.”

Beatrice moves a bit to her left, closer to the wall so she can crane her neck and slyly take another peek. She softens when she sees Ava laughing, throwing her head back and revealing the column of her throat. “Yeah, she does. She looks happy.”

“She looks like the excitable type.”

“Hmm?”

“I said she looks like the excitable type. Hard to imagine she isn’t that readily excited when she’s talking about her own wedding.”

Beatrice sneaks another glance at Ava, at the massive grin on her face and the way that she’s talking with her hands. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. She’s just overwhelmed I guess, and maybe she’s doing what we’re doing right now. Taking a night off from thinking too much.”

Camila only hums before she takes another sip from her drink. They don’t talk about Ava after that, and if Camila notices Beatrice sneaking glances at the woman from time to time, she doesn’t mention it. 

-

“A garden wedding would be nice, wouldn’t it? All the colorful leaves in contrast to your dress,” JC says as he looks at the laptop screen, looking as if he’s imagining the whole scene in his head. 

“Yeah, that’d be pretty,” Ava replies. She thinks about how it would look like in the pictures. Her in a beautiful dress surrounded by reds and oranges and browns. It’s a good scene, yeah. 

“So we’re locking in on a garden wedding? Awesome. We can let Beatrice know.”

“Yeah. Oh, and she’s asking about the number of guests and your availability next week for the engagement shoot.”

JC scratches his chin for a second. “Just tell her we might have a hundred guests. About next week though, let me call my uncle. I can take an afternoon off for the shoot.”

“Great, yes please.”

He stands from the couch and walks over to his office. Ava watches him go before turning her attention back to the laptop.

She should feel more excited about this, should feel like she’s on top of the world. She certainly sounds like it, but deep inside she knows that she isn’t and it’s making her feel guilty. No, Ava tells herself. There’s no time to mope around about this. Beatrice already noticed something off about her the last time that they met. Ava knows that Beatrice did. She can’t wait for JC to notice the same. She has to rectify this. 

With a firm nod, Ava tells herself to start trying more. She can be into this wedding, can fall in love with JC all over again. He’s a great guy and he loves her. It shouldn’t be that hard. All she has to do is remind herself how they fell in love in the first place and why they stayed together for so long. 

When JC comes back she has a bigger smile on her face. She sends the email to Beatrice and waits for a reply. 

“Okay, now we gotta choose a photographer and a videographer.”

They spend the rest of Wednesday afternoon looking through portfolios until they decide on who to hire. Ava sends Beatrice another email. 

Late Thursday afternoon, JC texts her that he won’t be coming home for dinner. He has a work thing. Ava stares at his message before opening up her thread with Toni. She sends a quick ‘Are you free?’

The response comes after a few minutes. ‘We’re already out.’

Ava meets them at a bar she’s never been. The sign outside says “The Wilds” or something. Toni says they have the best draft beer in the city. Ava takes her word for it. 

The bar is nice, cozy. Unpretentious. There’s a live band across the entrance, the countertop on the left, tables littered in the middle and a few booths on the right side to the wall. Ava takes a minute to admire the modesty, the singer’s voice smoothly reverberating throughout the place, the laughter from the patrons. It’s so unlike the clubs that she and JC frequent, with their dizzying lights and ear-shattering music. Everything here is gentler. Ava finds that she likes it more. 

“This is nice,” Ava says when she slides into the booth that Toni, Shelby, and Dot are sitting in. “How come you guys never took me here before?”

Dot fondly rolls her eyes. “We didn’t know if it was up to your standards.”

“Oh please. You mean JC’s standards. I like the atmosphere here. Feels more, I don’t know, intimate? Personal?”

Toni grins. “We should take you out more often then. All the places we go to are intimate.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Shelby laughs. “But seriously Ava, we’re glad you could come.”

“Me too.” 

She buys them a round and they talk about work, Mary coming home from her honeymoon in a few days and Fatin’s upcoming birthday party. 

“You should come with,” Dot says. 

“To Fatin’s party? We’re not really friends.”

“Yeah but she’s our friend and you’re our friend so I’m sure that counts,” Shelby offers. 

“I’m not sure it works that way.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Toni says, waving a hand. “You’re coming with and that’s final.”

Ava drops it, just laughs and agrees. Lord knows she needs to get her own social life anyway. 

They’re talking about something else when the door swings open. The woman that enters catches Ava’s eyes immediately. It’s Beatrice. 

“Someone you know?” Shelby asks. 

“That’s my wedding planner.”

“Oh yeah? She’s pretty,” Dottie says. 

Ava hums in agreement, her mind suddenly conjuring up an image of Beatrice’s face up close. Her brown eyes that seem like they’re littered with golden flecks. Her freckles. The shape of her nose. Her full, pink lips.

She sneaks a glance. Once. Maybe twice. 

JC and Ava step out of the car that Tuesday afternoon, ready for their engagement shoot. Beatrice had booked a beautiful garden dome for them just outside of the city the week before and in a matter of days, had everything prepared from the venue to the photographer and the make-up artists. 

Ava can’t help but be impressed by the woman’s efficiency. 

She watches as JC looks around, a massive smile on his face. His excitement is palpable. 

“Our pictures are gonna turn out really well,” he says.

“Yeah, this place is breathtaking.”

“No, I mean because you’re going to be in them,” he winks, transforming back into the boy that Ava first met in college. It makes her smile in spite of her warring feelings, the way he’s still a cheeseball after all of this time. Makes her worry about their wedding a little less. 

It’s when she’s turning towards the dome’s glass entrance that she sees Beatrice. The woman is wearing a pair of black pants and a button-down shirt, short straight hair cascading freely but barely touching her shoulders. 

She’s wearing just a hint of make-up, Ava notices, because as she’s walking towards them a ray of sunlight hits her just right and Ava can see a few specks of her freckles.

“Hi Ava.”

“Beatrice,” she greets back with a smile. 

She watches Beatrice turn to JC. They shake each other’s hand, that afternoon being the first time they’re formally meeting. She doesn’t know how long she had been staring until JC drops a hand on her shoulder, effectively bringing her out of her daze.

“Ava?” 

“Hm?”

“Shall we go inside?”

Ava clears her throat. “Yeah, of course.”

The shoot happens rather quickly. One moment she and JC are getting their hair and make-ups done, the next they’re being told to pose and smile. 

Photograph after photograph, Ava tries her best to look as happy as she knows she should be. She relaxes her shoulders, unclenches her jaw, reminds herself that JC loves her. He’s her friend and her home, and he loves her. 

She breathes out through her mouth when the first half of the photoshoot is finished. 

It’s when they’re switching locations in the area for her solo shoot that Beatrice comes up to her with a practiced smile. Beatrice looks around them, as if checking that there’s no one close enough who can hear, and then her lips tug down, her face turning into a look of concern.

Her voice is low when she asks, “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?” And Ava tries her hardest to look and seem like it, because she knows that Beatrice can see right through her facade. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, Ava thinks. Beatrice has worked with a lot of brides. She knows what a real happy face looks like. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Okay, good,” Beatrice says, her smile tentatively sliding back into place. “I thought there was something about the photoshoot that’s making you unhappy.”

“Oh no, everything is perfect. Thank you.” 

“You’re positive?”

“Yes, I am. Really.” Ava puts on a smile, aiming to put the other woman at ease. She isn’t technically lying. Everything about the shoot is perfect. It’s just her that isn’t feeling anything about all of it. 

“Okay, but I’m here if you need anything,” Beatrice says, reaching out to touch Ava’s forearm. Ava knows that the gesture is meant to soothe, to reassure, but her stomach is suddenly spinning and there’s a tingling sensation on the skin of her arm where Beatrice’s palm has landed. Her breath catches in her throat and Beatrice retracts her hand. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“No, don’t apologize. Your hand’s just cold,” Ava lies, because what would she say? It’s just like that time at the desserts bar when Beatrice had slid her hand to cover hers. 

“Right. Of course.” Beatrice clears her throat. She squares her shoulders back and Ava can tell that it’s her way of switching back to professional mode. “Shall we get back to the shoot?” 

“Yeah, sure.”

Beatrice nods, then disappears to talk to one of the photographers. 

After a quick touch-up, Ava is led to a circular flower garden. It’s a different location. She should be by the ponds as instructed earlier. No matter, she thinks. Maybe the photographer thought this was better. She takes a look around and it immediately clicks. 

There’s a staging area in the middle, right between two stone pathways intersecting to form a cross. The surrounding areas are decorated with flower beds. Yellows, pinks and violets, but Ava’s eyes are focused on the middle of the landscape where a beautiful white floral archway stands. She smiles, freely and unguardedly for the first time that day. 

She walks over to Beatrice.

“Did you do this?” 

The woman smirks. “I might have had a hand in it. It’s the centerpiece this time, not blocking any views. Unless you have a problem with its placement?”

It’s a small gesture but Ava feels a wave of warmth spread throughout her chest all the same. The playfulness in Beatrice’s tone takes her back to the night they met and for whatever reason, Ava feels the tension on her shoulders melt away. 

She isn’t lying when she says, “It’s perfect,” and maybe the rest of the day becomes more manageable after that. 

The week goes by at full tilt. There’s a website to worry about and invites to be customized. They need a caterer and a baker and a florist and a gown. It’s a never ending checklist, but Ava doesn’t mind. She doesn’t feel the need to rush. 

Mary comes back on Thursday. She isn’t supposed to be back at work until the week after but the gym is her baby, so Ava isn’t surprised to see the older woman waiting for her in the locker room. 

“Doesn’t the owner have her own office?” Ava jokes and Mary rolls her eyes.

“The owner can do whatever she damn well pleases.” 

Ava chuckles at that, continues walking over to her locker to put her things in. 

“So, anything new with you?” 

“As if you don’t already know.” She raises her hand to show off the ring on her finger, reminds herself to take it off before her class starts.

Mary whistles. “Wow, that’s a nice rock.”

“It is, isn’t it? It’s JC’s grandmother’s.”

“And yet you don’t seem excited,” Mary points out. That’s Mary for you. Straightforward. No bullshit. Ava likes that about her. 

“Huh?”

“I don’t know. Guess I expected you to be bouncing off the walls to tell me about it even if I did already know.”

Ava deflates at that. She and Mary have only been friends for as long as she started working at the gym. Eight months, that’s it, but the woman knows her like they’ve known each other since they were children. Mary has quickly become her closest confidante, like an older sister or a favorite cousin. She knows everything about Ava, including her relationship with JC. 

“I _am_ excited. I just, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Maybe everything is happening too fast,” Ava says and Mary only nods. There’s a look on her face that means she wants to say something, but she ultimately decides against it. Instead she asks,

“You’re happy, aren’t you?”

Ava swallows thickly. “I am.”

Mary doesn’t say anything. At her silence, Ava clears her throat, decides to use that lull to her advantage. She’s been meaning to ask, after all. 

“Hey boss?”

“Hmm?”

Ava closes her locker door shut. She turns to fully face Mary, shifting from one foot to the other when she says, “I was thinking. I know we haven’t known each other very long but you're the closest friend that I have and well, I was wondering, if maybe you would wanna be my maid of honor? Or best woman, if you prefer that term.”

She knew the minute that she and JC went home after the proposal, when it dawned on her that it was real and that she’d really said yes, that it was Mary that she wanted beside her as her matron.

When she closes her eyes and tells herself to imagine a friend, it isn’t Zori or Chanel that pops into her mind. It’s Mary at the forefront, Shannon and Toni and Shelby and Dot right behind her. Her own circle of friends. Her found family.

“You want me to be your maid of honor?” 

Ava shrugs, “I mean, yeah, but only if you want to. I know that you’re busy and you have the gym and your wife and I don’t want to put another thing on your plate but —,”

Mary cuts her off with a hug. She’d stood from the bleacher to wrap her arms around Ava. They’ve never been this touchy. Mary isn’t usually the type, but her grip is safe and warm and Ava feels herself relax. 

“Don’t tell the others, but you’re like a sister to me, you know?” Mary admits. “I’d love to be your maid of honor. Or best woman. Whatever.”

“Thanks, Mary.”

“I just have to ask one thing.”

Ava pulls back, sees the grimace on Mary’s face. “What is it?”

“Will you want a male stripper at your bachelorette party? ‘Cause I’d have to prepare myself for that.”

Ava snorts. “You dumbass. No male strippers.”

Mary laughs and Ava knows that things will be okay somehow. She has Mary. She has her friends. She’ll be okay.


End file.
